


Arachnogenesis

by sakurazawa



Category: Avengers (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-18 01:36:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2330438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakurazawa/pseuds/sakurazawa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She didn’t remember much of her father at all, but her mother was a featureless face in her mind’s eye, willowy and strong in the bright room with it’s mirrored wall and wooden floors. Natasha remembered her poised, a snapshot of perfect form, of strength disguised as delicacy, before she rose onto the hard toes if her slippers and danced.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arachnogenesis

**S** he didn’t remember much of her father at all, but her mother was a featureless face in her mind’s eye, willowy and strong in the bright room with it’s mirrored wall and wooden floors. Natasha remembered her poised, a snapshot if perfect form, of strength disguised as delicacy, before she rose onto the hard toes if her slippers and danced.

Ballerina. It’s never sounded like a fragile word to her, but perhaps that’s because she remembers the sweat, the blistered feet, the controlled clash of bodies and flex of muscle. Perhaps that is why combat looks like a dance to her—because dance always looked like battle to her. Ballet was war, and her mother was the first soldier she’d ever known.

She recalled their tiny, dark kitchen in Moscow, the grime on the outside of the window letting in the scarce light as her mother stood before the sink, her legs locked in third position as she scrubbed, maybe dishes, maybe potatoes, the memory was unclear.

Natasha copied the position of her feet, her own chubby legs making the shapes awkwardly.

“ _Solnyshka_ ,” her mother said, spying her reflection in the mirror by the door. “Do you want to be a ballerina?”

“Yes,” Natasha said. In her memory, the featureless face glowed with a smile she couldn’t quite picture. “Then mama will teach you.” And over the next four years, Natasha had learned strength and endurance, coordination, obedience, and pain. She had honed her body and her determination into that of a soldier.

 


End file.
